


HEAT AND DUST

by vanhunks



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Love in dust and sand, Mature context, Stranded in gravity well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: Tom, the Captain and a lower decks character are stranded in the gravity well. During the two months they spend there, they have to survive the harsh heat of the day and the extreme cold during the night. Tom pairs off and so does Janeway with a lower decks character. Guess the name of the character. Plenty of leads!





	HEAT AND DUST

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the episode "Gravity". This time it is Tom, Kathryn Janeway, the Doctor and a Lower Decks Character stranded after their shuttle crash-landed on a planet in the gravity well. This story was entered in the "Guess the Pairing" Contest of 2009.

* * *

HEAT AND DUST

 

"We've been friends or years and it's a punch to the gut to see you this unhappy. I hate doing this, you understand? You're the best officer on the security and engineering staff. Right now we're in very hostile space and we need all hands." 

"I will do my duty - " 

"I know you will. It seems I can't convince you to change your mind. As it's your express wish, you're to start work on deck fourteen as of this moment. Just don't blame me if she recalls you to your proper duty, okay?" 

The crewman gave an audible sigh of relief, the shoulders that had been hunched throughout the interview now sagging to normal position. 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Dismissed." 

He turned and left Chakotay's office, heading first for his own quarters. They'd had a long conversation in which he'd been frank with his friend, told him what had happened in the gravity well, but left out personal details. Chakotay sensed anyway everything that he didn't say. 

Once in his cabin he sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. The tension that had built up over the past three days in which he'd tried his best to avoid her, slowly seeped from his body. Now he didn't have to look at her or accidently bump into her. A sudden pain in his chest cause him to gasp, his face drawn in pain. 

He looked at the picture on the bed stand. The two young boys laughed as if they'd jumped out of the photo to hug him, their faces elated, unencumbered by life's misfortunes. 

 _She_ asked him about his sons…   _She_ … 

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to blank out images of unbridled desire, trying to place her exactly where she needed to be – on the bridge, master and commander of an intrepid starship. He wouldn't have to look at her, wouldn't have to see her quirky smile, her humour. She was his untouchable, Captain Janeway. 

What was he? Ex-Maquis absent father, too far down the chain of command to make any demands... He was Lieutenant Nothing. He had no business, no business expecting anything in return, no business loving where it was forbidden. 

 _No business loving the captain…_  

Her image took him instantly to the dry, dusty planet, to their strange plight, their dire circumstances. In his mind's eyes her face was raised to the strange sun, her eyes seeking, seeking, until they connected with his. Then she laughed, the sound free of restraint. As he collected the photograph and one or two personal effects and made his way to the belly of the ship where no one would ask uncomfortable questions, her image followed him all the way down to deck fourteen.  

He didn't expect so little light in this section of the ship, but it made sense when it came to conserving power. He was going to like it here. It gave him time to reflect on what had happened between him and...her, on his future on the ship. He wanted to get home just like everyone. Remaining behind on the next M-class planet they encountered wasn't an option. He had two sons he wanted to see again. 

Looking around him he found a little cache where he put his favourite things from his quarters. He'd had a set of books replicated during the first months in the Delta Quadrant. Never shared them with anyone since no one asked about his reading preferences. He was lower decks, why should they? He loved the classics, instilled into him by his mother and grandfather. They were all there - Dante, Dickens, Zola, Pablo Neruda's collected works… 

The picture of his boys stood on a ledge from which the ground hover-footpad system extended. He looked around him and found a little niche he could use as a seat. He could bunk in the small alcove just a few metres away. 

While he was obliged to wear his commbadge, only Chakotay knew his exact location, recalibrated to reflect his status as between his cabin and engineering. He'd join Torres there when needed, and Tuvok for security briefings. He'd be left alone. It's the way he wanted it. The status quo demanded that he remain a subordinate. He sat down on the seat, vaguely aware of the reserve warp core also housed in this section along with the hover footpad system, feel the thrum of Voyager's engines which somehow was more muted down here. 

Now he could feed on his memories of being sucked into the gravity well, of the two of them, Paris and the doctor trapped with a lonely alien called Noss, of the life they made on a planet of heat and dust. 

Janeway had assessed their situation then declared, "We're in a galactic sinkhole." 

Her words had had an ominous ring to them and for a few seconds his Maquis derring-do and Starfleet discipline had deserted him. He had felt a sliver of fear coursing through him. It was the look on her face, however, that brought them all back from the abyss of fear. It oozed courage, the kind that had made them all spring into action. 

They met Noss, who had spent fourteen seasons on the planet, who pointed out the dangers that lurked there, showed them her vessel that had also crash-landed there. But Captain Janeway inspired them, strong and assertive, as true a leader as if they were back on Voyager. 

Tom had begun to calibrate to doctor's mobile emitter and brought the EMH online. They could translate Noss's language. The planet was dry, desert-like and very dusty, she'd told them, with very little food and water. 

"And it reaches freezing temperatures during the night," she said, her eyes fixed on Tom Paris. 

He thought Noss had developed an attachment for Paris in super quick time. But then, who wouldn't, after being trapped on the planet for fourteen years with only herself as company? 

Despite the heat of the day, it was the punishing cold at sunset that got them. That first night he hardly slept. Their shuttle left very little shelter and Noss's ship had broken into two parts, the cabin section about ten metres away. Janeway and Noss could bunk down in what was the conn area of Noss's ship; he and Tom had to create a makeshift shelter in the exposed cabin section of the crashed shuttle. 

By morning they stood quivering, waiting for the sun to come up. His hands were blue from the icy cold. While they thawed, they knew that soon they'd be exposed to intense heat and dust storms again. 

That night Tom and Noss bunked together. The captain had shrugged at this development. His own surprise at Tom's behaviour had soon made way for cold acceptance of their situation. No doubt the captain thought the same. They were sharing body heat, with all that it suggested. He envied Tom, whom he had seen on Voyager in a rift-causing argument with Torres. After that fight with B'Elanna, Paris needed very little excuse to seek heat elsewhere. Noss, he'd noticed, had already been drawn to Tom. 

He had fixed a makeshift bed for the captain in the exposed cabin. She seemed very grateful for his help. Then he'd sat down at her feet and rubbed them to create warmth. He'd thrown both blankets they'd rummaged from their shuttle over her, ignoring her protests. 

"Don't worry about me," he told her. "I'm Maquis, remember?" 

"I remember you are a member of my crew, Lieutenant." 

He had looked at her soberly in the semi-dark. "I'll work on the replicator tomorrow, rig something for warmth... Maybe replicate sunscreen..." 

"I thought you're on Tuvok's team." 

"Maquis, remember?" he repeated. "I've worked with Torres during our Maquis days. Even helped in Engineering on Voyager..." 

"Did I underestimate you?" she asked, her voice low, her speech slurring like she was on the point of falling asleep. 

He doubted that she heard his 'maybe'. 

But it was like dying a second time as he tried to sleep. The cold seeped into his bones with no sign of abating. He clenched his teeth to prevent the continuous shudders that ripped through his body. He had leaned against a piece of the shuttle's bulkhead, shivering furiously trying to instil order in his chaotic thoughts, watching her silent sleeping form. It fascinated him, the soft rise and fall of her body as she breathed and he'd wondered whether she dreamed. If he kept observing her, he might forget about the cold but it was impossible as the thinness of the icy stabs into his bones kept him awake. 

 _I am going to die in a galactic sinkhole…_  

By morning, he woke with a start, realising that he was stiff, frozen, his hands blue. He rubbed them hard to instil some warmth. She was still sleeping soundly, so he rose with creaking bones and staggered to where the sun would first touch the ground. He'd realised that nothing he'd ever experienced in the Maquis had been remotely close to the terrifying circumstances they were in, the extreme cold, the extreme heat, no food, little water. There was no wood, no trees for kilometres around them, nothing that they could burn for warmth. It was a desert with rocky outcrops here and there, little mesas that when reached, plunged into small canyons. Noss had shown them the first day to hunt for food – spiders and the surprise of a few tubers which they roasted using their phasers. They could also heat up rocks they'd collected, but the warmth was temporary. 

He had spent the day working in the scorching heat on fixing the replicator while she worked with the EMH and Paris on recalibrating the distress beacon for launching, setting up perimeters and repairing the field generator. They had to find a way to let Voyager know. They knew that Voyager would leave no stone unturned to find them, and at some point before the sinkhole imploded on them, they'd be rescued. She'd surmised that Torres and Seven of Nine could work to send a transporter relay via the distress beacon. 

That night, exhausted from the heat of the day, the search for food and working to get the replicator functioning. He'd managed to repair it and waited for her to change into a track pants and long-sleeved sweater which she thankfully replicated, ordering him and Tom to do likewise. After that they could only use it for food. He'd been exhausted but too proud to admit how tired he had been and how icy the night descended on them. 

"You require rest, Lieutenant." 

"I can handle it. Don't worry, Captain." 

"Sleeping against the bulkhead is uncomfortable. You get very little sleep…"

"As long as you get the rest you need, Captain, I am satisfied." 

"You know the...the other two are sharing a bed..." 

"Aye..." 

Her eyes had a strange look in them. He didn't want to think what it meant. So he kept his gaze on the moon hovered silently in the inky sky. 

"Take the blanket, Lieutenant." 

"You'll freeze to death, Captain," he'd said, beginning to rub her feet again without looking her in the eyes. 

She hadn't responded, instead, her eyes had become reflective. Later, she shifted on her side. He'd noticed how she liked to lie on her side. He sat back, his head against the bulkhead, trying to sleep. It was difficult. His body had shuddered from time to time, rubbing his hands again for warmth.. 

Later, he woke sluggishly, to feel his hand being tugged. 

"We need to share our body heat," she'd said softly. "It's the only way. You need this, Lieutenant." 

Something had exploded behind his eyelids. He'd avoided that reality from the moment they crashed on this planet, from the moment in fact, that Noss and Paris had made their decision to sleep together. It had never left his consciousness, the thrilling yet terrifying prospect of bunking with the captain of Voyager. A dream he'd always just firmly cached in his heart, never to be given an outlet. Now Kathryn Janeway invited him to share her bed. What was he? Nothing, not worthy of kissing the feet he'd rubbed the previous nights. 

 _It was not right._  

"I... it's not right..." he responded feebly. 

"But it's the correct thing to do right now. You're freezing to death."  

So she lifted the blankets for him to slide in behind her. He was deeply troubled, his body stiff and reluctant, even as she took his hand to bring it around her waist, keeping it captured against her bosom. She was his superior, too high in the chain of command to... 

Another explosion. A dream of forbidden fruit, of being an unequal and daring to fantasise a situation exactly like this. Her body felt soft against his hardness, soft and pliable and pleasurable. He exercised superhuman restraint not to get hard. His face was buried in her hair that still smelled of apple and brandy shampoo. He inhaled cautiously, afraid to let go, yet thrilling in holding her, the warmth already beginning to seep into him.

"Relax, Lieutenant," she ordered softly in the silence of the cabin. 

He tried to. God help him, he tried. It wasn't possible. He kept thinking of his old dreams of her, of  thinking that there'd never be the remotest possibility that they'd be like this. He kept smelling her hair, even the faint echo of her perfume. He was insane with pent-up need. 

Then she clasped his hand in hers and moved them downwards. 

_No...no... please, I will not be able to help myself..._

He tried to stop, pull his hand out of hers, but she was determined, sure of herself. She let his hand rest over her soft belly, his thumb skimming the rise of her breast, then she made his hand travelled lower down to her forbidden delta...  He was going to die of hunger and of shame. He stopped abruptly. 

"Captain...I - " 

"Shhh..." 

The heat began to rush through him. His arousal jutted against her back. He was lost, because she rubbed herself into him, inciting him further. A thousand blinding sparks behind his closed eyelids, the growing growls in his throat. All thought of chain of command, of not doing what was happening flying like painful shards of fire from his being. He groaned as he pressed into her. 

"Yes..." she whispered, turning slowly on her back. 

In the dark her blue-grey eyes glowed, a heat springing from them. Her lips were parted. His need was mirrored clearly in her as she pulled the top over her breasts. In the pale light of the moon they gleamed like taut globes. He sucked in his breath. 

_God help me... I crave this. I am anguished._

**

Memories of that night swamped him, betrayed by his damp cheeks. He thought how his hands and fingers and mouth had become instruments of pleasure. His fingers, tentative at first, found her cleft, the wet warm despite the icy cold of the night. Her eyes smouldered, heavy with want. Her nipples had seemed to quiver in the night air and drawn hungrily to them, he had quickly captured one in his mouth, almost dying from the heat, the pure pleasure of tasting her. 

She'd shifted to help him remove her pants. She was burning hot. His fingers had caressed the soft curls at her centre in a tentative, searching gesture until he heard her moan impatiently. He'd stopped, looking into her hungry eyes. She pulled his head to her and brushed her lips against his. 

A groan of rapture escaped him as he'd nudged a finger inside and found her wet. She writhed, pushed against him, allowing him the complete exploration of her body. A hard kiss only served to incite him further. He let his thumb graze her willing nub as he slipped out of her core. Her hands were not still either as nails scored his flesh when she tore his trousers over his hips. A waft of air, then her hand clasped him, the heat of it searing into his very soul. 

He looked at her, still hesitating to move. She pulled him over her, shifting to let him settle between her thighs. He was breathing hard; she was ready, yet he thrust his hand between their bodies and felt for her softness again, finding her clit and stroking it gently. She gave a little cry and when he guided his shaft into her, felt how tight she was. He reeled from the pleasure of her centre clamping around his cock, waiting that she could adjust to his size. But her impatience made her greedy as she bucked her hips. He gave the final thrust deep into her. Their bodies heaved and he couldn't think, all manner of thought and objections fled as he filled her. 

They climaxed together, crying out in half joy and half despair. He collapsed, spilling shamefully into her. They lay gasping until their bodies became calmer. She had gotten up quietly and when she returned, had cleaned his semen from her body.  She snuggled closer to him under the blankets, wriggling until she felt secure and relaxed. He had lain awake long after she had drifted into slumber. Deep in the night he awoke to find her hand covering him, his shaft as hard as it had been the first time. For a second time that night they rolled and heaved together until they crashed over the edge... 

**

Too restless to relax in his new workplace, he got up, unable to shake off the memories of heat and dust. 

He'd gotten up the following morning and walked to search for the first rays of the sun. Strange how in the two months they had been trapped in that sinkhole, every single morning he had gone to greet the rising sun. He'd stood near a rocky outcrop that overlooked a shallow hill and gazed over the horizon, his mind in a turmoil of what had happened between him and the captain. He blushed at the images evoked, her generous giving, his own hunger, their need to keep warm... 

It had to stop. He would spend every night sleeping against a cold bulkhead. 

Yet the minute her hand touched his shoulder, any resolve to stop it dissolved, even as he stiffened at her touch. He'd given an inward cry of pain at the way his body betrayed him. When he'd dared to look at her, her eyes held nothing but a quiet determination. She'd given a quirky, warm, encompassing smile. 

"I wanted it to happen," she'd said, her gaze challenging. "There is no shame."

But he knew of her friendship with Chakotay, his closest friend. Knew what everyone thought, knew how close they were. 

"What about Chakotay?" had been his concern. 

"What about Chakotay?" she countered "Everyone saw what he wanted to see - captain and her first officer making out, becoming an item to stroke their romantic egos." Kathryn remained silent a few seconds. "We have a friendship, an enduring one, understand?" 

He'd nodded, finally assured that he wasn't dreaming anymore, that the woman he had fantasised about from almost the beginning of their journey could make him feel again. That he always felt unequal to her  began to dissipate. He touched her cheek, embracing their new freedom cautiously. 

"You're okay?" he asked. 

"First-time-in-a-long-time soreness, but I'm fine. I feel...good." 

They had watched the sun come up, silent in their newfound connection, a silence that was companionable, that healed. After that she'd joined him every morning watching the golden-red sun rising over the horizon. 

They met up with the others and held morning briefings to discuss the day's work - finding food, finding new shelter, calibrating the beacons to receive confirmation of their plight. The rest of the day the EMH went offline to conserve energy, Tom and Noss went searching for food, replicating only water and a few very basic food items. The four of them used the rest of the time in any useful way they could. 

So they spent every night making love, keeping warm. He loved to touch her, loved to kiss her. She was unafraid, as if she'd always thought of him as a mate. He found her breasts irresistible, and constantly latched his mouth on them, enjoying the feel of her nipples as they hardened. Her skin was soft, the daily sunscreen regimen really paying off. 

Even after two weeks he couldn't believe his good fortune that she'd been all woman, all allure during their lovemaking, accepting him as a lover so willingly. Most nights they'd lain tightly together to conserve warmth after they'd made love. 

He dreaded the day when Voyager would rescue them. Then they'd revert to the Voyager status quo where their positions on the ship would once again be restored. But on the dry planet during the day, they sought one another hungrily, revelling in the freedom of lovemaking. Sometimes they were just plain brazen, making love on the hard ground kilometres away from the crash site, lying totally naked for a few minutes afterwards, enjoying touching, connecting. Her skin would glisten in the aftermath of sex. He found kissing her soft centre irresistible, glorying in caressing her skin, sliding his hands up and down her body. They'd taken a small replicated with them every day, finding spots that offered a modicum of shade. 

Other days she wanted him to be rough, even when he didn't want to be. 

"Kathryn, I - " he'd start just as he lay primed to rush into her awaiting core, trying to hold back, not be rough. 

Almost from that first night of sex, she'd asked him to call her by her name when they were alone. 

"Lieutenant, you are under orders to ravage me today," she'd say. 

Sometimes they made unashamed love - hard, unapologetic sex as if they couldn't have enough of each other, as if they'd all die in the next second. Afterwards they lay exhausted, replete, she smiling wondrously at him. Then his heart flipped over double knowing that she wanted him, that there were no shadows, no anxiety on his part that he'd poached on what they all believed, belonged to Chakotay. 

Then there were days they were quiet, thinking about Voyager, about home, talking…. They'd sit together at the edge of their favourite rocky outcrop that overlooked a small canyon. 

"I had a fiancé, Mark Johnson, but he moved on, got married," she told him. "I was saddened that he could do that while I was always hoping..."  

She paused a few seconds, letting the unsaid things linger between them. So many off the crew hoped that their loved ones would wait or them, and in Kathryn's case Johnson didn't wait. 

"I would have waited," he told her with an audacious air, enjoying her open regard before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

"Now that I know you so well, Lieutenant, thank you," Kathryn said. "What about you?" 

"I had a wife," he said, his voice suddenly hard. "She left me before I joined the Maquis. Shacked up with another man on a planet far away from the DMZ. I have two little boys. Thiago is nine years old now and Dante is seven. Selina left them with her mother... I didn't want to leave them..." 

"Dante. Name of a poet."

"I know. I read his work. It's what I do when no one's watching." 

Kathryn smiled and kissed him on the cheek. 

"You miss them..." 

"Every day." He had given a sigh. Then she'd held him close against her bosom while he spent the next few minutes missing his sons. 

One day Tom Paris cornered him. 

"You're fucking our captain." 

"It's none of your business, Paris. Don't insult her." 

"I'm not. We're basically surviving here. It was going to happen. I'm not mad, if you must know. Noss is going with us as soon as we're rescued. She wants to transport to her homeworld." 

"You're leaving her? She's in love with you, man." 

"I have a situation. You know that." 

"Yeah. But I'm sure you'll resolve it. Crew has been talking how Torres got into knots around Chakotay..." 

"Had a big fight over that. Now...with Noss..."  Paris had paused tellingly, then shook his head. "But will you resolve yours?" Tom asked. 

He still owed Paris an answer. 

*

They were rescued two months after their shuttle crashed on the planet and the gravity well was permanently closed. Kathryn had been as brilliant as ever, calibrating the exact moment after receiving a message from Voyager that they'd be ready to transport to Voyager. 

They returned to discover that only two days had passed while they had spent two months on the planet. Captain Janeway had thanked them all for the roles they played in the rescue, gave him a well-meaning look before she headed to her quarters. He knew it was over. He had no illusions. 

Now, three days later, he found living on Voyager unbearable. 

On that dry, dusty planet they'd made love in the icy cold of night and on most days in the heat of the landscape, their movements whipping up the dust around them. They'd lain on their backs completely naked and ran loose sand through their fingers like two excited children. Many days they'd sit and watch the mirage, the shimmering created by light and hot air, imagining wondrous animals and images caused by the distortion. 

She had laughed up at him, something he'd said that was funny. They'd been quiet, talking about their lives, their homes. He'd told her he didn't have one to return to except collect his sons, when that day should ever happen. She'd tickled him playfully, stopping when he'd been in tears from the sheer joy of it. They walked far, always carrying their phasers when danger lurked. She'd helped him eat Noss's spiders when he felt like throwing up. 

They had been equals then. 

Now the captain has returned to her ship, inhabiting her role as their commanding officer and he as low on the lowest decks of the ship. He hadn't dared look at her when they stepped of the transporter platform. She been hugged by Chakotay and Chakotay's eyes had narrowed. He didn't want to know what that meant. But Chakotay was his closest friend and sensed soon enough. 

He was a security and tactical officer, nothing more. He had no part in her life anymore. He had no right to her. There could be nothing between them, nothing of any importance. How would it look if she shacked with him on the ship? The captain and her boy, her eunuch. The crew would scorn him. 

She was too good and he, not worth kissing her feet, even though he did enough of kissing and licking and nipping every inch on her willing body. 

It was why he wanted to be reassigned to the ship's belly. He didn't want to see her. Didn't want to dream again of possibilities, didn't want to be embarrassed. He was dead certain most of the crew knew by now that they had slept together 'to survive', ostensibly. 

They had never spoken of love. Never. 

He buried his face in his hands again, felt again the betraying dampness, the raw heartache of loving where he shouldn't. 

A hand touched his arm. Her hand. He looked up, not caring that she saw his sorrow. She was kneeling in front of him. He never heard her coming, never felt the waft of air that should have told him someone was there.   

"You can't hide down here..." she said. He tried looking away, but her hand touched his cheek gently. 

"I can never belong to you, or you to me," he said heavily. "From the beginning I knew. I understand, you know. You're the captain and I - " 

She had something in her other hand, a PADD she proffered him. 

"Look at this, please..." Her eyes were serious, expectant. 

The PADD was already active, so he just stared at it. 

A great welling of emotion overcame him. He felt as if a hand punched him in the gut and he sucked in his breath and painfully expelled it. There it was, the evidence of their liaison so clear as if he could already hold it in his hands. 

"A girl?" he said, his eyes filling with tears. 

"Look at me, please?" the captain whispered. 

He met her gaze. Uncertainty and joy flicked across her features. His heart burned the first tears escaping and traversing down his cheek on to her hand. 

"She's ours. I want her to know her daddy, to have him around her as often as only a father can be..."

He was stunned by her words, the smile that crept into her face so wondrous he wanted to drown. 

"A girl," he said again with such awe that Kathryn gave a low chuckle. 

Then she became serious again, her gaze unwavering. 

"I am not ashamed of what has happened between us. I love you. I will not hide it either. This is my choice. I live by it and I will die by it. I'd like to share my quarters with you. I'd like to marry you...if you'll have me..." 

He found her words awe-inspiring, the one thing sticking in his brain that she loved him. 

"You love me...?" 

"It happened very quietly, maybe that first night we made love." 

"They'll laugh - " 

"They'll laugh because they'll be happy for us. I want you to remember this - in our quarters we are equals in every way, okay?" 

He stood up and pulled her up with him. Finally he could look at her, hold her very close, caress her hair, stroke her cheek with a trembling finger. 

"Since that very first day, when we transported from the Liberty to Voyager's bridge, my heart was yours. I have dreamed every day, kept my feelings locked up so tightly I hardly knew how to banish the pain of the prison into which I'd thrust my heart. You cannot know how I yearned for you, always." 

Her eyes filled with tears. Then he knelt down in front of her. "I love you, Kathryn. I would be honoured if you became my wife. Marry me?" 

"Oh, yes. Who knows, a couple of years from now we'll be home and show little Graciana to her older brothers!" 

"Graciana?" 

"Yes. We can call her Gracie, if that's okay with you." 

"I'd like that, Kathryn. I'd like that very much." 

********

end

 


End file.
